


The Meaning of "Asinine"

by meandminniemcg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Charities, Dracospeak, F/F, Getting Back Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Meddling Friends, Post-Hogwarts, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandminniemcg/pseuds/meandminniemcg
Summary: HD Wireless fic for the song Not In Love by Crystal Castles. Hermione and Pansy are sick and tired of keeping their happy relationship in the closet because Harry and Draco can't accept each other. Of course, all their friends join the meddling, and there might be one wager or another...





	The Meaning of "Asinine"

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to the awesome mods, who solved so many problems and moderated the fest under difficult conditions. You are amazing.<3  
> And a big thank you<3 to Aibidil, who emergency beta read my fic.

Email from hermione.granger@drcmc.mom.mag.uk to pansy.parkinson@honeydukes.mag.uk)

> Dear Pansy,
> 
> I like how supportive and loyal you are towards Malfoy, just like I’m supportive and loyal towards Harry, but it can’t go on like this. Ron is dating Blaise, Neville courts Millicent, and you and I dream of moving in with each other. But we can’t combine our Friday Pub nights together, although we are always at the same pub and we even keep our relationship secret, just because Harry and Malfoy prefer staring at each other across the room like in sixth year!
> 
> I don’t even know what happened at the end of eighth year. They seemed to get along; I could have sworn they were together, even though Harry kept his mouth shut about it. And then from one day to the other they can’t even greet each other anymore. Harry has short flings with blond, posh-talking Muggles whose names he keeps forgetting, and I heard from Ron and Blaise, that Malfoy told his father he is not going to marry any witch because he is gay. But there is no man in his life, at least as far as Blaise knows.
> 
> Harry is my best friend, and I hate keeping my happiness with you secret from him. Is my impression wrong, or is Malfoy staring at Harry whenever he isn't looking?
> 
> The Mirror of Erised is kept in the Ministry now, and I saw it and saw our wedding inside it.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Hermione

(Email from pansy.parkinson@honeydukes.mag.uk to hermione.granger@drcmc.mom.mag.uk)

> Dear Hermione,
> 
> I can relate to your feelings. I hoped so much you would be serious enough about our love to want to let everyone who is important know about us, but I thought I was in no position to ask, with my past. Yes, I managed to seduce you, but I haven't managed to make it official, although I long to.
> 
> Draco can be a royal pain in the arse when he has no other topic than Potter here and Potter there but won’t tell me what happened in eighth year. But you're right, they had something with each other, I walked in on them in the middle of a blowjob in the trophy room, where I was supposed to serve a detention.
> 
> As far as I can see, they are not over each other. Do Gryffindors intervene when their best friends are making themselves unhappy? If they were both Slytherins, I would have taken drastic measures last year already…
> 
> Wish I was in your arms now…
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Pansy

(Email from hermione.granger@drcmc.mom.mag.uk to pansy.parkinson@honeydukes.mag.uk )

> Dear Pansy, 
> 
> How about a meeting with our friends but without Harry and Draco, to make a plan. I expect Arthur Weasley would be more than willing to keep Harry busy. Maybe Andromeda could ask Draco to babysit.
> 
> How about tomorrow afternoon? We would have to postpone our date until the meeting is over, but it could be worth it, what do you think?
> 
> With all my love,
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Hermione

(Email from pansy.parkinson@honeydukes.mag.uk to hermione.granger@drcmc.mom.mag.uk)

> Dearest Hermione,
> 
> You bet it’s worth waiting, especially as I can still sit beside you and hear your beautiful voice?
> 
> I’m a Slytherin, remember, I like scheming, and also, scheming with you. And hopefully I will no longer have to hear cranky “Potter with his stupid hair” speeches soon, think of asking Ron’s brother with the joke shop to join the scheming meeting. 
> 
> My love for you is part of my magical core.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Pansy

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{{}{}{

Hermione’s sitting room was crammed with friends; even Minerva McGonagall and Andromeda, who didn’t go to a guided museum tour as she had told Draco, attended the meeting.

“Does anybody know what happened at the end of eighth year?” Ginny addressed the Erumpent in the room.

“I know they were doing it. But I only know because I heard them in action inside a broom closet without a Silencing Charm. Draco seemed happy in those days, but then after six months, it was over. Draco never talked to me about it.” Blaise shared his knowledge.

“Draco seemed happy while it lasted … And I know Harry was happiest I ever saw him …” Ron said slowly, weighing every word. “I may not understand Harry’s ferret kink, but if Malfoy can make him happy, who am I not to be supportive. “ Everybody knew that Ron had been friends with Draco since he started dating Blaise, but they kept up the Ferret-Weasel talk.

“How about the classic solution of forced proximity?" Seamus suggested. "If they are stuck together in one place, they will talk eventually, and if they talk, they will surely see that they belong together.”

Dean looked at his fiancé doubtingly. “What do you want to do? Give them a cursed object that binds them? You do remember that going against the bond has dangerous consequences and that they can get seriously injured?”

“I rather thought of that Muggle movie you made me watch, in which the man and the woman were stuck in a lift together,” Seamus said apologetically.

“Might work,” Ron interjected.

“I don’t think so,” Pansy replied. “Draco will not open up because of being alone with Potter.”

“Harry gets bored easily when there is nothing to do. I’d guess they will fight with their fists rather than start snogging or talking.” Ginny stated her opinion.

“I daresay that they will shag in there; in fact, I bet you twenty galleons they will,” Blaise remarked smugly.

“Blaise, we are talking about the most stubborn Gryffindor and the most stubborn Slytherin. I bet against it and I know you will have to give me your twenty galleons. Or we do something sensible with our time and interfere properly,” Pansy retorted.

“I think the forced proximity can’t do any harm, if we make sure they don’t suspect us,” came from Greg Goyle.

“We have to watch them; we can’t risk that they fight in there.” Neville’s voice sounded careful.

Hermione could tell that he was not comfortable with the idea of locking Harry and Draco in a lift. “Also, wasn’t Harry uncomfortable about being in small spaces?”

“In Auror training, a whole month was dedicated to developing strategies to stay comfortable in situations like that—narrow spaces, heights, spiders … Harry can meditate through it or distract himself with an interesting conversation.”

After another hour of discussion, they decided against the votes of Hermione, Pansy, Neville and Luna to trap Harry and Draco for two hours in the ministry’s lift after they worked overtime.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{{}{}{

Harry had had a long day at the DMLE. A raid against an illegal potions ring at five o’clock in the morning, interrogations until three in the afternoon, and Seamus kept piling paperwork on his desk as if he thought Harry was the only Auror in the whole department.

He stepped into the lift at eight o’clock determined to apply first thing in the morning to go on holiday as soon as possible. He didn’t really look at the bloke already standing in the lift, only nodded and made a sound that could vaguely be considered a greeting, not really paying attention to whether the bloke greeted back. He pressed the button, turned his back on the man and thought of what he was going to cook at home. Suddenly the lift stopped between two floors. Harry sighed. Again, something delaying him.

“Being delayed in the most asinine way possible. Stuck in a lift with the Prat Who Lived,” a familiar voice drawled.

“As if I wanted to spend time with a pointy git like you after a long day at work. I just long for my sofa, the wireless, some takeaway Dhal and a cup of Curcuma latte.”

“And I long for a shepherd’s pie, lying on my recamier. And the wireless would maybe be a good idea, too. Instead I’m trapped with you of all people. Couldn’t you have taken the lift earlier or later?” Malfoy ranted.

“If I had heard your voice when I came in and greeted you, I would have.”

Malfoy touched the “Need rescue” spot on the wall with his wand and waited for a response, but it didn’t come.

When Harry started finding it uncomfortable, he had an idea. “No need to stand around or sit on the floor like Muggles. We both did our NEWTs in Transfiguration and Charms, and at least I got an O in both.”

“Do you think I got a T? My grades were O, too,” Malfoy flared up.

“Firstly, do you really think I need to know your grade? Secondly, instead of quarrelling you could help me with an Extension Charm, because in this lift it will take two to make it strong enough to provide comfortable space for two.”

Malfoy muttered something, but cast the charm together with Harry. Then he unshrunk his briefcase, took two empty parchments and a quill out, and transfigured the parchments into armchairs, a red one and a green one, and the quill into a folding screen between them.

 _What a git, he can’t stand seeing my face even if his life depends on it._ Harry sat in the red armchair on his side of the screen. “Should I transfigure something into a wireless?” he asked.

“If it helps you to keep your mouth shut.”

Harry flipped the point where Malfoy was behind the screen the bird. _Arsehole! I fucking didn’t do a thing to deserve this treatment. How embarrassing that I loved him in eighth year._ Harry took out a packet of tissues and transfigured it into a wireless, just as Lee’s show ‘Live Wire for Charity’ began. Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” and the writer Daphne Greengrass sang with Madam Malkin “Celebration.” Between the music acts, Lee talked about the Remus Lupin Magical Disease Research Center, and its efforts to find a way to heal Lycanthropy and Lapidosis, a hereditary magical disease. Daphne Greengrass told listeners through tears that her mother had died of Lapidosis when she was in third year.

Harry wondered if Malfoy was listening, too. Did it interest him? If Lee invited Malfoy into the show, would he appear on it?

 _Harry, stop it!_ he thought, _you will just hurt yourself all over again if you start caring about Malfoy. Yes, he has a handsome, almost angelic face and a body that is sexier than any other person’s body as far as you can see. Yes, his voice still sends shivers down your spine, and he is your favourite wank fantasy. But it’s not a good idea to keep on dreaming of a git who doesn’t feel the same._ Still, Harry longed to see through the screen. He tried recalling the lyrics of a Muggle song he had bought recently:

I saw your picture

Hanging on the back of my door

Won't give you my heart

No one lives there anymore

And we were lovers

Now we can't be friends

Fascination ends

Here we go again

He thought of the lyrics as intensively as he could without bursting into song. There was no good reason to allow himself to still fancy a git who, in the past, just took advantage of Harry. It was obvious that Malfoy had used him to satisfy his curiosity, nothing more. And Harry had been so daft as to believe they were in love. Malfoy had not even once said “I love you.”

Harry tried his best to concentrate on Lee’s voice over the wireless, but without success; the presence of the screen kept reminding him of the man behind it. _How was Malfoy sitting there? Was he sitting upright just on the front half of his seat, like he used to sit in the library while studying for NEWTs? Or leaning back? Cross-legged? Was he sprawling in the chair? No, don’t even think of it!_

The mental image of Malfoy sprawled in the chair, his legs spread wide enough for someone to kneel between them brought up more memories of eighth year that made Harry half-hard. Bloody fucking hell, why could he not be stuck in this lift with anyone else? Even Zacharias Smith would be better. Where was the fucking watchman when they needed him? Usually Grant would stick his nose into everything, bother Harry with unasked for attention, try to persuade Harry to date his niece, no matter how often Harry repeated that he was gay.

To distract himself, Harry tried to recall recipes from great-grandmother Potdar’s handwritten cookbook that Grandfather Fleamont had brought from India, but then he remembered when he had asked the elves to let him use the kitchen, and how Draco had tasted the Rogan Josh…

_No! I don’t want to think of anything Malfoy-related. The relationship with Malfoy was six fucking months, and I've spent twenty-seven years not in a relationship with Malfoy. Why can’t I fucking concentrate on a time when Malfoy played no role? Maybe I should think of something from before I knew Malfoy. Well, that play we staged at ten in school, when I was understudy for all the roles._

Harry recited the rehearsal scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream in his mind, recalling the faces and costumes of the kids playing the different parts.

When Grant finally showed up, Harry was at his wit’s end. Malfoy had not made it easy for him; every time Harry thought he could concentrate on something, Malfoy had made some noise, and was on Harry’s mind again. Git!

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}[

Hermione firecalled Harry the next morning; she had waited until ten o’clock, although she didn’t think locking them up in a lift for two hours would successfully have brought them back together.

“How are you this morning, Harry?” she inquired.

“Awful. I hardly slept. Yesterday was the worst day since leaving Hogwarts.” Harry sighed.

“Wait, I’ll come through.” She Flooed over to Grimmauld Place, then they sat in Harry’s kitchen and drank chai.

“So, Harry, what happened?”

“First Morag and Waters got injured during the raid against the potions ring, and I have the feeling that we only caught the small fry, and the big ones are still on the loose. Then Seamus loaded my desk with urgent paperwork until I was three hours overtime, and when I finally got out of my office, I got stuck in the lift for two hours with Draco sodding Malfoy.”

“Sounds stressful, but it might be easier to be stuck with someone than alone,” Hermione said tentatively.

“I’d agree with you if it was almost anybody else. But I wouldn’t be surprised if my boggart took on the form of being stuck with Malfoy. He is such a git.”

“You seemed to like him in eighth year,” she prompted.

“Yes, I even was in love with him, but for him it all was just casual; from one day to the next he broke up with me, when he lost interest.”

“Did you guys fight in the lift?”

“No, we cast an extension charm; and then we transfigured parchment into armchairs and Malfoy put a folding screen between our chairs. Then I conjured a wireless, and tried to distract myself with Lee’s show, but he is such a restless radio listener. He kept making noise, and then his clothes; they always seem to shout, 'look at me, I’m so posh.' And then I still dream of that wanker.”

“You dream of him like…”

“Yes, like being attracted, like wanting him, like wanking to memories of him, as if it isn't the most stupid thing I could do."

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

The next evening, they all sat together again to scheme, this time in Parkinson Hall. “Blaise, you owe me twenty Galleons. Not only were they not shagging, Grant told me they even conjured a screen to stay out of sight from each other.” Pansy began smugly but the disappointment about the screen was audible.

“Malfoy conjured the screen. Harry kept ranting about how ‘Malfoy can’t bear being in the same room as me if his life depends on it.’” Hermione imitated a whinging tone.

“They conjured a screen? In the small lift that still works after eight o’clock, that you described?” Minerva asked.

“Yes, they must have cooperated for the necessary extension charm, especially as they even had space for transfigured armchairs. Grant said they even had a transfigured wireless inside there when he found them,” Hermione added.

“Maybe we should work with that…” Neville said pensively. “If they cooperate for a purpose they both support, they might have an incentive to talk, and if they talk they might resolve their problem with each other.”

“Well reasoned,” Cho smiled at him. “What do you want to do?”

Dennis Creevey fidgeted like a first year. He still looked up to all these people who had welcomed him into their friend group when he started working for the Quibbler as a photo journalist.

“Dennis, I can see you have an idea.” Millicent gave him an encouraging smile.

“Harry is donating himself for the talent auction for the benefit of the orphanage. Draco always bids until he wins, so if we can persuade him to bid, he has no way out. Because he signs that there will be photo coverage for the Quibbler about some of the talents. And of course, we will cover Harry’s performance, as well as Oliver’s tour of the national Quidditch team’s training area and the Glamours’ Meet and Greet. And I happen to know what Harry offers.”

“That’s brilliant,” Ron enthused immediately. In fact, the decision to persuade Draco to bid for Harry’s talent was unanimous.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

They had chosen Morag to persuade Draco to bid for the Indian cooking lessons. She was Harry’s colleague, but she had been in Slytherin, and neutral in the war, in part because of her Ravenclaw twin sister Isobel.

She walked up to Draco in front of the hall where the auction was to take place. “Hello, Draco. Long time. Anything interesting going on in your life?”

She enjoyed his flinching at her question about interesting news. Being an Auror, she was experienced with when to appear gossipy and when not to. For this task, she could only benefit from him assuming that she was in a gossipy mood.

“Nothing—no lover, no expansion of the Malfoy business that wasn’t in the press yet,” Draco drawled.

“Congrats, you are the low profile of the month,” she joked.

“Talking about low profile, do you have any idea behind what offer Potter may be hiding?” Draco had lowered his voice.

 _That went fast._ “You want to be sure to get his offer?” Morag teased.

“Eewww. His fan club is big enough without me. It was bad enough being stuck in a lift with the prat who lived two weeks ago; I have no desire to pay money to hear his asinine, over-colloquial talking,” Draco protested a bit too loud.

 _‘Asinine’,_ Morag thought, _as if we couldn’t translate Dracospeak. Asinine means the same as I love it but am afraid of letting anybody know. For years, he tried to convince us chocolate frogs were asinine and plebian, just to sneak into the common room when he thought no-one was around to raid the shared chocolate frog stash. Or listening to Muggle rock between first and fifth year. He would call it asinine mudblood habits and secretly hang around where someone from the other houses was listening to Queen by the lake. And how often he would secretly hum ‘I Want to Break Free!’ Whenever he really dislikes somebody or something, he will use a different term._

“So, you want to avoid Potter? Better know his hobbies then. I think I heard someone put Seekers’ game Quidditch on high-end brooms on the list. Could be him; I think I would want to prove I’m a better Quidditch player than him now, if I were a certain Draco Malfoy.”

“That’s why you were just a background Slytherin, while I was the undisputed center of attention,” Draco replied in a failed attempt to be witty. This proved two things to her: firstly, he was thinking too much about not seeming interested in Harry and too little about being appropriately polite, something she had observed frequently when Draco had been hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant mask; and secondly, he was swallowing the bait.

“But what if he doesn’t offer the Quidditch?” she said musingly.

“You work with him; do you happen to know what else interests him?” _Bingo!_

“Maybe you tell me what interest you and I tell you a probability,” she prompted.

“Well, the most interesting sounding one would be the cooking. Like that Indian cooking. Since the house elves have Sundays off, I’d like to be able to cook for myself once a week, and spaghetti every Sunday is boring.”

_Better than I dared to hope._

“Quite safe, Potter talks so much of takeaway food, and Molly Weasley’s cooking, if he knows how to cook at all, it will be spaghetti and muggle microwave food. If it’s someone from our year offering this, then it will be one of the Patil twins.”

“The Patil twins. Sounds like a good option. The Ravenclaw Patil is clever, and from the Gryffindor Patil I can hear the newest gossip. It could be entertaining.”

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

“Going, going, gone! The Indian cooking lessons are sold to number 74, Draco Malfoy. Please, go to Ms. Bones to be ushered to your cooking instructor.”

Draco knew what that meant: he had won a celebrity event. Well, Parvati was the manager of the Glamours, Lavender Brown’s band, but did that make her enough of a celebrity to be backstage, and to be revealed to the public only at the end of the talent auction? But then, not everyone who cooks Indian food must be from India, and also, wasn’t the drummer of Hippogriff Stampede from India? _Banesh Tenali even spent his first eight years in Mumbai. Well, he looks rather fit, although not as fit as… Ugh, Draco, stop those foolish nonsensical thoughts, he told himself. Potter is not going to make you happy. Other mothers have beautiful sons, too. And their hair doesn’t look like birds' nests. Also, they are not as asinine as Harry fucking Potter._

Draco walked up to Susan Bones and she ushered him to the door of a backstage room. “You have to stay here until the end of the bidding, so the auction will not stop raising funds when the celebrities are off the market. We will call you for the revealing of the celebrities and who won their events.” She opened the door, and Draco entered. On a blue sofa sat – Harry Potter.

“Where is Tenali, or is it Patil? Whoever is the celebrity to do the Indian cooking,” Draco demanded impatiently.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but Parvati offers Divination, and Banesh Tenali is playing live in Canada with Hippogriff Stampede. You’ll have to settle for me to teach you Indian cooking,” Harry deadpanned.

Draco raised one brow. “Can you cook at all? Morag said you order lots of takeaway after work.”

“You don’t expect me to still spend an hour in the kitchen after working overtime. But she must have withheld some important information, she is crazy for the samosas I bring to work every Monday,” Potter said with a look on his face that seemed not to be able to decide whether to be amused or scandalised.

“I’ll hex her into next year! She tricked me,” Draco growled.

“She pranked us; or do you think I told her to persuade platinum-blond gits to bid for my cooking lessons?” Potter added. “Wait a minute, she… No, I just hope she didn’t…”

“Did nobody tell you that speaking in riddles only befits a Sphinx?” Draco snapped.

Potter seemed amused. “Remember, I defeated a Riddle, and your wand and your mother even helped me, after your family had served that abomination for years. I can speak any way I want.” _Bloody hell, this look in his face, and this voice. Will that ever stop having an effect on me? Can’t my shrivelfig stop responding to that asinine chuckle._

It wasn’t even five minutes of conversation with the obnoxious Gryffindor, and instead of the normal reaction of wanting to run away, he felt the urge to pin Potter against the wall and snog him senseless. _It’s just physical. I guess I just need to go to a Muggle club and get laid. It’s been too long._

I am in control

And we were lovers

Now we can't be friends

Fascination ends

Here we go again

Draco thought of the lines of this song. In his mind he repeated ‘we are not in love’.

When he got home after appearing on the stage and answering Potter’s questions on food likes and dislikes, as well as making the appointment for the first of four cooking lessons, he couldn't even remember if he'd Apparated or Flooed home. He sent Morag a howler, went to the bathroom and wanked fiercely in the shower.

When the day of the cooking lesson came, he glared at Potter and told him, “I promised to take the cooking lessons, and I have to pose for the Quibbler and look happy but spare me any attempt of conversation that is not strictly necessary for cooking. I’m not interested in your asinine opinions and the things you consider jokes. I just want to get over with it.”

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

“That was a disaster. These obnoxious dimwits managed to spend a single lesson not talking to each other while they were cooking, except for naming quantities of ingredients and cooking spells. Worse than potions with Snape: the atmosphere was as cold as if a dementor had been sitting in the second cooking pot,” Hermione ranted after coming back from Grimmauld Place. “I would never have believed such a thing even to be possible if I had not watched them from under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak.”

“Calling your best friend a dimwit?” Pansy teased.

“And your best friend, too. What would you call them when they have sleepless nights about each other and never think of doing something about it?”

“They are not just dimwits, they are cowardly dimwits. We must find out what actually happened in eighth year. And as long as they fail to reconcile or get over each other, they will get on our nerves with their ranting about each other’s stupidity and obnoxiousness. So, it is self-protection to meddle.”

Hermione laughed and kissed her. “We both deserve some reward for putting up with such prats as best friends.” She took Pansy by the hand and led her into the bedroom.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

This time they all assembled at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes while Harry was solving a computer problem on Arthur’s laptop that the older wizard might have caused on purpose to keep Harry busy, and Draco was babysitting again, while Andromeda and Narcissa claimed to go to a classical concert.

“So, this is your shop, Mr. Weasley?” Narcissa asked George. “It reminds me of Fabian Prewett’s ideas. It’s a shame you didn’t meet your uncles Fabian and Gideon. In fifth year, I had a crush on Fab, but my parents told me not to associate with the Prewetts, and I was so stupid to follow their advice. He was almost as much of a prankster as my cousin Sirius and Harry’s father.”

“Please, Mrs. Malfoy, call me George,” George said.

“Only if you call me Narcissa,” she replied with a smile. “After all, we are all trying to make my son get together again with your foster brother.”

“Okay, let’s start the meeting,” Andromeda called out, silencing the chatter of many smaller conversations.

“Draco took all four cooking lessons, but they didn’t talk except naming quantities of ingredients. I monitored them hidden from their sight, and I never experienced such awkward silence with two people cooking together in a kitchen. Their gazes seemed to stray to each other’s … trousers, but no communication; they avoided touching, as if the other one carried a disease, but then these secret looks, and each cooking session had two interruptions with one of them disappearing to the bathroom for a suspiciously long time and sounding a bit short of breath afterwards,” Hermione reported.

“And the next day Draco told me what an arrogant tosser Potter is, and that he had a sleepless night, and that it’s not fair that such a wanker is so bloody fit,” Pansy added.

“Change the names and you have exactly what Harry told me,” Hermione ended the report of the last try to set them off.

“Draco loves everything about Harry except that he is Harry, and Harry loves everything about Draco except that he is Draco,” Luna concluded in her dreamy voice.

“The masked ball!” Ron blurted out.

“I never thought I would say so, but you are a genius,” Greg shouted.

“I bet a hundred Galleons that it won’t work,” Seamus interfered.

This was followed by a cacophony of explanations why it was bound to work out just brilliantly, from everyone except Dean and Luna. In the end, Ron, Blaise, Morag, Ginny and Bill were betting twenty Galleons each against Seamus’s hundred Galleons.

“So, how do we make sure they don’t recognise each other but notice each other at this big event?” Blaise prompted.

“George and I will be their X,” Pansy said smugly.

“Their Ex?” George was shocked. “I never dated Harry or Draco. And the gay twin was Fred, not me.”

“I mean the guy who gives James Blond those gadgets that Muggles consider so amazing.”

“Aaah, you mean Q,” Ron laughed.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

The masked ball’s theme was mythology. Pansy had thought for a long time about the costumes. They had to be sexy, but hide the face completely. And George had to do something to change the voice. Harry was good with glamours, but Draco needed some help to hide the Dark Mark and the Sectumsempra scars, because his costume would show a part of his chest.

Finally, they were ready. While Pansy took Draco’s costume to Malfoy Manor, George waited at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes for Harry. The costume was in the back room, and George thought it was brilliant.

Exactly at the appointed time Harry arrived. “So, what is my costume that Ron considers so brilliant?”

“You will be Horus.”

“I thought I was supposed to flirt, perhaps even to snog someone at the ball, how could I do that with a beak?” Harry worded his doubts on the way to the back room.

“It’s enchanted. And most of the wizarding world knows this type of mask. However, you must glamour your hand and your locket scar. The lightning bolt and your hair will be covered by the mask, and the eyes of the mask have built-in lenses, so you won’t need your glasses. I’m glad you're finally getting out there again in the wizarding world. Fewer worries about the Statute of Secrecy.”

Ron, Blaise and Hermione Flooed over just as George was donning his own costume: a very redheaded Loki.

Hermione was dressed as a brilliant Pallas Athene, with Pigwidgeon sitting on her shoulder, and Ron was dressed as Heracles. Blaise was wearing a Maui costume and tattoo glamours.

“Didn’t you want to introduce your date to me?” Harry asked Hermione, as they were waiting on the sofa for Angelina.

“Well, she will come directly to the ball; she had a job to do before it. In fact, she said she might be delayed.” Harry noticed that Hermione didn’t look him in the eyes.

“Mate, she is picking your blind date and making sure he finds you,” Ron said smugly.

Blaise added, “She picked a gorgeous man for you, abs that will make you drool. Not my type of man though, I prefer gingers, but if there were no gingers, and especially no Ron, I would drool, too.”

“But then, will he like me without my Harry Potter fame? I’ve been getting squishy round the stomach.” Harry put his self-doubt in words.

Blaise chuckled. “You are roughly the sum of all features that attract him. If you guys don’t shag tonight, I am positive that he will wank to mental images of you.”

When Angelina came, dressed as the Indian Goddess Lakshmi, they Flooed to the ball and sat down at a round table close to the dance floor. Before Harry and Hermione’s dates came, Ron, Blaise, George and Angelina went to the dancefloor.

Harry watched the dancers with curiosity. Even without a date he had fun seeing all those people without being recognised, and nobody was interested in him without his glasses and with the mask that covered his whole head. Tonight, he was not the Boy Who Lived. He'd even had his friends agree to call him James for today.

“Hey, James, our dates are arriving,” Hermione interrupted him just as an Achilles and a Bastet stepped through the door.

“But even though she is Egyptian, you take the wom … Fucking bloody hell! That’s Malfoy! I would recognise his gait even if I was drunk or not wearing my glasses. Forget it, you people can’t make me dance with that git. I’m out.” He Apparated to Grimmauld Place without even thinking about it.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

“That Horus looked familiar. I think I have seen him before, but why did he Disapparate?” Draco sat down, looking confused.

“He didn’t feel well,” Hermione said apologetically.

“Could you send him a message from me? Maybe I could meet him another time.” Draco Conjured a parchment and a self-inking quill and started writing.

> Dear Mystery Man, aka Horus,
> 
> I deeply regret my delayed arrival at the ball. Just catching a glimpse of you from afar, I longed to meet you. All I know about you is your body looks stunning, just the right ratio of strength and cuddliness that makes me wish to lie in your arms.
> 
> I hope you will give me a chance to get to know you.
> 
> Yours, Achilles

Hermione promised to give ‘James’ the letter.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

For three weeks, Harry refused to speak to Hermione or Ron. He was even close to Incendioing their letters as soon as they were no longer attached to owls, but every time he raised his wand to cast the spell, memories would pop up in his mind: Ron and Hermione risking their lives so many times for him and being there for him in good times and bad times. They were his friends, more than that, they were family. And for whatever stupid reason they had tried to make him date Malfoy, they must have meant for it to be a good thing.

Finally, he decided to look at their letters to see why the fuck they had thought making him blind date Malfoy was a good idea. There was lots of apologising, but no explanation as to why they had done it. After reading all the letters, he sent them a Patronus saying only one word: Why?

They immediately Flooed over.

“We have seen you flirt with posh, blond Muggles, and we have seen you for years secretly glancing at Malfoy across the pub every single Friday. Whatever happened at school, you are not over it, and it was years ago. Moreover, he is not over it, Blaise and Pansy have confirmed it."

“Pan—" Harry gasped.

“Pansy. I should have told you before, but I didn't have the courage. She is my girlfriend. You had such a hard time accepting Ron and Blaise when they started dating."

Harry was perplexed. Hermione had been scared to tell him she had a girlfriend, all because of his whatever-it-had-been with Malfoy in those six months.

“Remember when we had double rooms in eighth year? And the Slytherins had to share a room with one of us?” He started hesitantly.

“You shared your room with Dra— Malfoy,” Ron prompted.

“It’s okay if you use his first name, everyone does, only I don’t have the right to do so anymore.” He spoke through the lump in his throat.

Hermione and Ron wrapped him in a group hug. “What happened, Harry?”

“We … were doing … things like snogging and touching each other, … and one night we … went further, … he kept telling me how much he liked it. He … he chose how, … it all seemed to be good, until the next morning. When we went to breakfast he still told me he had enjoyed shagging me, then he got an owl and broke up with me. He never told me why and shouted at me every time I called him by his first name. First, I tried to win him back, but he was cold as ice. I should be over that wanker, but I’m not.”

“Maybe you need to hear his reasons to get over him and love again. You deserve love, Harry.” Hermione whispered in his ear, still hugging him.

“Hermione, sorry that I discouraged you from talking about you and Parkinson. I’m glad you have someone who makes you happy.”

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

“Pansy, do you know why Draco broke up with Harry in eighth year?” Hermione asked, interrupting her knitting. She was sitting on Pansy’s sofa and working on a colourful pair of socks for Minty, a house elf employed by Pansy, whose extravagant taste in clothes kept reminding her of Dobby.

“He never even mentioned anything going on between them. But you know, his obsessing over Harry never really ceased. He even keeps every newspaper article on Harry he finds in a scrapbook. I would assume, whatever caused it must either have been a misunderstanding or Draco must have been afraid to love Harry. You know it took him very long to come out to his friends, and even longer to come out to his parents. And he is still closeted to the public.”

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

This time, everyone assembled at the Burrow while Harry took Teddy to the Muggle Zoo and Draco was leading an advanced workshop on Muggle Tech-Magic Hybrid devices at the magical department of Oxford University. They sat in the garden, being too many to be comfortable indoors, but the weather was sunny and warm.

Hermione and Pansy had reported what they knew and looked around to see if anyone wanted to say something.

“I'm floored!” Ron exclaimed.

“They both think blocking the other one out of their lives is necessary to protect themselves. But they miss what they had in those six months,” Luna summarised in her dreamy voice. She added, “They never found it with other people. This is the most long-lasting Wrackspurt infestation ever detected.” She looked sad.

“They won’t do anything fun together, but they can cooperate for a purpose if necessary. And mind you, I caught Draco cooking Palak Paneer last Sunday when I visited him spontaneously. I think we have to make them cooperate on something that forces them to confront their feelings.” Blaise’s voice radiated optimism, but the exasperation he tried to conceal was still visible for those who knew him well.

“Music!” Seamus blurted out.

“Seamus, what do you mean to tell us?” Narcissa raised one eyebrow in the Slytherin-typical way. By now she was on first-name terms with all the young people, sometimes feeling young again herself, younger than she had ever been allowed to be. She regretted having taught Draco to conform to so many pure-blood rules without questioning them. And as much as she had loved Lucius once, she now cherished her freedom after his life sentence in Azkaban and her divorce from him. Ten years ago, she would have thought it better if Draco stayed closeted, but after recently flirting with Healer Howell, a brilliantly witty and attractive St Mungo’s healer, and gone on her first date that didn’t follow strict pure-blood rules, she wanted her son to have the same freedom.

“I mean, Lee could invite them into his fundraising show. Both Harry and Draco can sing very well,” Seamus explained.

“But it is a lottery who sings with whom,” George said slowly.

Percy poked his brother with his elbow. “Don’t tell me you can’t manipulate it or that you have become more lawful than me.”

“Who are you and where is Percy?”

“Fred and you taught me that what is lawful and what is good are not always the same. And in this case, it doesn’t harm anybody, but it can help Harry and Draco to be happier, which would be good,” Percy replied.

“In this single case, and on condition that you all take an Unbreakable Vow not to talk to any outsider about it, I could make an exception from the rule, and allow a manipulation of the song partner lottery,” Lee said with a mischievous yet melancholic look in his eyes. Narcissa knew that Lee and Fred had been boyfriends. Andromeda had told her.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

The eighteen contestants sat on armchairs in the waiting area of the WWN. Draco sneaked a look at Potter. His face was out of sight; Draco only saw his body dressed in jeans and a narrow-fitting shirt. Fuck! Recognition hit him like a stinging hex. That bloke who had Disapparated at the ball! It had been Potter. His new wank fantasy was not a sign that he had overcome his fucking obsession, but it indicated that his subconscious recognised Potter under the disguise. His head was spinning.

Now they heard Lee Jordan, Kirley Duke and Myron Wagtail drawing the contestants’ names. Kirley spoke about his transition at the age of sixteen, a well-kept secret until recently, which was only possible since he had spent his school years with his father in Canada after his parents’ divorce. He'd returned only shortly before his music career with the Weird Sisters to study, then met his band colleagues. Kirley talked about how Muggle testosterone made things easier for him compared with the rather complicated potion—he didn’t need to have a freshly plucked hair from his father, luckily, because his father had become completely bald in his old age.

But Draco only listened with half an ear. He was too busy not looking at Potter. His attention was merely enough to hear the names of chosen candidates, his attention only moving back to the lottery when he heard Wagtail shout, “Our third pair of candidates is Harry Potter…”

_Hope Potter will have to sing with that silly model who is always giggling._

“Aaand…” Duke shouted while Wagtail beat a drumroll with his hands on the table, “Draco Malfoy!”

_Bloody fucking Hell! He pinched himself. Ouch! So, this is real, this nightmare is real. Why did I agree to sing at this stupid show? Singing a song with Potter! I know I did a lot of people wrong in the war, but can’t life ever forgive me or punish me in a way that doesn’t include Potter?_

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Harry was relieved, after the first meeting with the studio personnel, that the discussion of what song they would cover was not public. He found it increasingly hard to keep up his glamours. And he looked horrible today, after two sleepless nights. While he usually didn’t find his looks important, he was very much opposed to the thought of showing weakness in the presence of Malfoy.

Malfoy! First his closest friends seemed so eager to set him up with that git—and he was a git, no matter how sexy he might be. And now they even had to sing together. Even that freshly-out-of-Hogwarts model with her constant giggling and her refusal to acknowledge that he was completely gay, and even if he wasn’t she was too young for him, would have been a better singing partner for him. But it had to be Malfoy, why did life hate him like that?

He sat down in the WWN Canteen with a cup of café au lait and a treacle tart and waited for Malfoy to show up. Malfoy was delaying. Did the git have to make a show out of everything? Harry scrolled through his playlists looking for a song that was safe to sing with Malfoy. And it had to sound good.

But how did Malfoy sing? Even in those six months he had never heard Malfoy sing. Concluding from his talking voice, his singing voice might sound good, tenor, he would guess, but … _Not a good idea to think that much about Malfoy! Malfoy hates you. He would never voluntarily be around you. He just played with you in those six months, and you still obsess over him. Respect yourself and get over him._

“It’s bad form to sit in a café with an electronic entertainment device. Were you raised by wolves?” Malfoy’s voice came from behind him.

“I should have been raised by a dog and a wolf. Would have been better for me than growing up with the Dursleys. Anyway, you are one to talk about bad form. Even someone like me knows that it is bad form not to greet the person one is talking to, first. So, good afternoon, Malfoy.”

Malfoy gritted his teeth. “Good afternoon.”

“I was looking for songs to suggest to you. And I carried this device in case you don’t know the songs and want to hear them. In case you forgot I didn’t come here to look at how much hair potion you use these days,” Harry hissed.

“Asinine love songs to drive your fan club crazy? Please spare me that,” Malfoy snapped, as he put a tray with apple strudel and Latte Macchiato on the table and sat down.

“A love song? For whom? For you? Don’t be stupid!”

“I’d rather hex you than hear you singing a love song. We should sing a song about not loving.”

“How about ‘Not In Love’ by Crystal Castles? Do you happen to know that one?”

“I happen to know that one,” Draco said sardonically. “I think I have to delete it from my playlist if you listen to it, too.”

“Fine. I think we have talked what was necessary. Goodbye.” Harry gulped down the rest of his coffee, put down his cup, took his tray and rushed away.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Behind their Notice Me Not charm, Hermione and Pansy looked at each other. “Shit,” Pansy murmured.

“All they cooperate on is their refusal to reconcile. We’d better give it up. They need a mindhealer. This is beyond what friends can do.” Hermione’s voice sounded depressed.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

When the day to record the song came, and Lee greeted them, he was shocked. Harry and Malfoy were both pale, with dark rings around the eyes; last time he had seen them like this was in wartime. To spare their strength, they only applied glamours for the photoshoot in the studio and withdrew them immediately afterwards. When Lee had a chance to talk to one of them alone, they each spoke of nightmares, and that it isn’t easy to sing with the other one given their history.

Lee had thought he would try a little longer to reconcile them than the others, being as chronically optimistic as he was, but now even he had to give up. All he could achieve with these two would be that they didn't hex each other into the next decade. Maybe it would even be better to leave them under the responsibility of Tracy Matthews, who would mix the song. After all, both were known to behave around people they didn’t know so well to avoid an appearance in the Prophet.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Harry was disappointed when Lee left them alone with this woman, Tracy. She was so young; did she have the experience at all to cope with a rude Malfoy? Why did nobody stay here to help him? He really wanted to hex Malfoy into the next century as soon as he spoke, but when Malfoy started singing in a warm tenor voice, with his posh wizarding accent, and Harry noticed the difference between the wizarding accent and the accents of his posh Muggle flings, it still sent shivers down his spine and caused a traitorous twitching in an area he really didn’t want to think of. He rushed out of the studio room and ran to the toilet, cast an _Aguamenti Frigidum_ at his crotch, then a drying charm and returned to an exasperated Tracy and an angry Malfoy.

The first time Tracy was satisfied with the way Harry sang his part, rockier than he had thought initially, Malfoy ran away, whispering, “This sounds so asinine.”

Harry felt like crying. He had only slept the last few nights with Dreamless Sleep; he had been here to sing with Malfoy, who was the greatest git he knew, and yet too sexy to ever get over, and at the first chance to get it over with and out of the situation, this idiot ran away.

When Malfoy returned, Tracy came in with two glasses of pumpkin juice, handed them to the two men and said, “Drink.” Then, as they gulped down the juice, she went out, and the two men heard her lock the door. She said through the speaker, “You guys are really like first years. Whatever silly problems you have with each other, I give you two hours to come to terms for a truce that enables you to sing together. And don’t even think of hexing each other; I collected your wands. And I expect you both to really behave, because when I come back, your nephew will be here with me.”

“Whose nephew?” Malfoy asked.

“Teddy. I take it you are both his uncles. Andromeda is my neighbor, and when he heard that you both are singing in this studio, he wanted to visit you. He thought it will be amazing to see you both at the same time. You’d better not disappoint him.”

Through the glass, they saw Tracy cast a charm that made it impossible to summon their wands. Then she left.

“Bloody hell!” Malfoy broke the silence.

“You can say that again!” Harry growled. “This comes from your running away.”

“You ran away first!” Malfoy said in a slightly whiny tone.

“You think I like being insulted every time we see each other?”

“And you think I like being walked out on at a ball? I know it was you under the Horus mask. And that you recognised me.” Malfoy fidgeted as if he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

“You are one to talk, you don’t even exchange normal polite words with me when you take cooking lessons from me, you need to build a wall between us when we get stuck in a lift, and you broke up with me without an explanation after our first time. Even if you think I was that bad at shagging, that you never wanted to repeat the experience, you could have explained it, or not lied first to break up after breakfast. Who sent that owl—was that lover better than me?” Harry’s voice broke.

“There was no other lover. The letter was from my mother and contained three marriage candidates for me. And I thought I had to marry one of them.” The aggression had disappeared from Malfoy’s voice, replaced with an extreme sadness.

“But you married none of them.” Harry stated.

“I got to know them, chose the only one of them I could imagine as a friend, and we prepared for the betrothal. The evening before the appointed date, she told me she loved a woman, and she was going to elope with her. I told her I loved you, but anyway, weren’t you just experimenting with me? You could not be serious with a Slytherin, especially with me, an ex-Death Eater.” Tears rolled down his face.

“Oh, I was very serious, with this particular one, with the one whose wand I used to kill Voldemort, the one whose mother saved my life, the one who didn’t want to be one. I know Voldemort held your mother hostage,” Harry said.

“I had a choice and made the wrong one. When Voldemort told me to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts and when my mother sent me the marriage candidates,” Draco said glumly.

“Yes, but sometimes people don’t know they have a choice, and sometimes they make the wrong choice for fear. When we were together, how did you feel about the Dark Mark?”

“I hated it. I hated it even as I took it, but I was afraid that that abomination might kill my mother,” Draco sobbed.

“If you were in the situation of that day you broke up with me, would you break up again?” Harry put his hand on the small of Draco’s back.

“No, but it’s too late. I threw your love away. You moved on, you dated other men. I taught you to hate me, even twice.” Draco let himself slip down to the floor, curled up in a ball and sobbed.

“No, you taught me to be afraid of loving you. I avoided you, because your scent, your looks, the sound of your voice, even when it would only insult and taunt me, made me want to get close to you again, to hold you in my arms, but I had to assume that you hated me.” Harry sat down on the floor beside Draco and took his hand. “Even today, when I ran away, I ran away because the timbre of your voice turned me on.”

Draco looked Harry in the eyes from below. He moved his mouth voicelessly, until he finally breathed “Harry… I … also never got over you … I … you”

“If we try it again, will you talk about everything to me?” Harry asked softly.

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Harry. And I love you. And we will have to choose and sing a different song.” Harry smiled goofily and kissed him.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Lee wanted to look what was going on in the studio. When he entered the sound mixing room, he didn’t see Harry or Draco through the window, but suddenly he heard something.

“Nnngh … yes …more … Fuck! Yes … Want you inside me … want you … Ohhh!”

He grinned, cast an alarming charm to tell him when those two would be decent again, left a note for Tracy and Teddy to meet him at the cafeteria for some ice cream, and sent a Patronus to Hermione and Pansy.

When Tracy arrived with Teddy, Lee asked her what caused the change in the two men’s behaviour.

“My Hufflepuff charm and two strategically placed drops of Veritaserum.” Tracy smirked.

“You sound like a Slytherin.”

“I almost would have been one, but I wanted to be with my best friend.”

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Their song ‘Learning to Love You’ (originally by the Glamours) made it onto the wizarding charts. In the next two years, there were two double weddings: Blaise and Ron and Hermione and Pansy got married, and Harry and Draco were best men. As soon as the two couples had returned from their respective honeymoons, Draco married Harry, and Narcissa married Healer Conrad Howell. At both occasions, Teddy was the proud ringbearer.


End file.
